Like Wind On A Dry Branch Novels & Stories

A wind stirred as soon as the words were said. Soft. Warm. Moving through the branches of the ancient oak above us in a way that sent the white and silver fabrics lifting gently, catching the light and releasing it, carrying the scent of the flowers tied into them outward across the gathered pack. It was not dramatic. It did not crash or announce itself. It arrived quietly, the way the most meaningful things tend to arrive, and moved through the space between us and then through every person standing in witness. And our wolves answered.

I was furious. A mixture of warm, moist air at low levels collides with dry, relatively cold air above, gradually turning into a wind storm. I sent it to him and it swept him off the dusty ground. The wind turned him over and over, His cries hovered around the woods, "Elena...stop." Mom shouted my name again. I didn't listen.

The ground along the way collapsed, forming a thick and long ravine. Whizz whizz whizz whizz whizz whizz — The airflow swirled violently, and even a big tree would be instantly smashed into sawdust and powder if it were sucked in. The raging wind blew Caspian's long hair everywhere, but Caspian did not intend to dodge the force of the punch at all. Instead, he said, "Charles, since you don't believe me. Let me fill you in on what mistakes you made. First —"

“Don't worry about him! We won't be gone for long!” I pouted and let her. She picked up a branch and swatted at the dry leaves. I glanced around the entire forest. The trees were so tall, and when my fingers brushed against their bark, I could feel their age. These trees must be antique. They look creepy and alive. I could imagine them moving and talking like that of a movie.

The wind in the ancient northern forest didn't just blow; it howled, tearing through the dense canopy like a dying beast. Branches whipped viciously against the sides of the massive midnight stallion as it tore deeper into the uncharted wilderness, its hooves striking the frozen earth with a rhythmic, deafening thunder.

She hadn’t meant to say anything, but the noise startled her. “The wind in the trees,” Brian said. “And there are some birds that stay year round. Sometimes when the wind is still and the cold is upon us, the quiet is so deep you can feel it in your bones.” It sounded creepy to her, but she could tell from his voice that he loved it. Brian walked them around behind the hangar, where a snow-covered gray crew-cab truck waited for them. He reached into the truck bed, pulled out a broom, and banged it good and hard on the ground to dislodge snow.

THE WIND grew more violent as each second passed. The birds that were resting on the branches of the trees all squealed and flew away. We were yet to see the hybrids, but we knew they were here. We could feel it as tension sizzled in the air. We could even smell it. Their blood scent was everywhere which meant that we were now surrounded by them.

I frown down at the unfashionable brown color, but quickly cast my eyes back up at the passing scenery. Tall, healthy trees stretch up toward the sky, as though reaching for the setting sun, a cool breeze causes the weaker branches to sway in a lazy wave. The Wind bats me in the face with my own hair, but I don’t dare raise a hand fight it. I tighten my lips, trying to keep the silky strands from slipping in. The sound of his hooves meeting the ground is drowned out by the melody of birds singing high in the canopy. Their sweet chrips bring a smile to my face. I feel like they’re encouraging me, silly as it might sound.

My stomach rumbled, indicating that it was empty and needed feeling, adding to the current agitation brought by the burning heat. Luckily, clouds covered the sun and a cool breeze began to blow, causing the trees that lined the path that we were onto to dance and their branches to sway in a gentle response to the calming whistle of the wind. Seeing that the day was beginning to get cooler, I stopped with my fanning and dropped the hand fan on the saddle and picked up the rein with my other hand.

At the base of the branch, I sink onto my haunches steadying myself on the trunk behind me. Slowly, I let a hand go and place it on the branch ahead of me scooting forward a bit. It grows thinner and thinner the further out I crawl. It starts to dip beneath me and sways slightly because of the wind. A whimper escapes me when it dips so much, I glide forward "You can do this. Get it together." I mutter to myself continuing my crawl toward the end.